


The One Where Stan's The Bad Guy

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Asperger Syndrome, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Karma's a bitch, M/M, Multi, Sort Of, Stan's also a hoarder, Stan's also evil, The main three are roommates, Unrequited Love, Vigilantism, everyone is also dumb, it'll only go downhill from here, lesson learning, so buckle up, trigger warning- milk poured before cereal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:19:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The town's menace, a grumpy old bastard named Stan Marsh, decided one day that he liked his living conditions, and decided to change himself for the better to make sure that he could keep it.But, in a flash, he was suddenly in danger of losing it all.Join him as he realizes that his actions had consequences.





	1. (1)

Stan always found comfort in doing the same routine every time he was in a bad mood.

During the day, he'd be wasting his time in bed, just sulking and thinking about the situation more than he should. He'd also contemplate having a drink after being 5 years sober now, no matter how small the inconvenience. His roommates knew that he liked staying in his room by himself, but were unsure of what he did all day, so they wouldn't be suspicious if they walked in and saw him lying face-first on the bed.

By day, he was a mess.

By night, he'd do what looks like everyone's kids and their grandmas seemed to be doing these days. He'd dress up in an outfit he made himself, and ran around at god-knows-what-hour in the morning. The only difference between him and most of the people was that everyone else was trying to solve the problem, while he was the problem. Instead of thinking of it as a bad thing, he always reminded himself that, if he wasn't there to fuck shit up, then none of those stupid superheroes or vigilantes would be around anymore. If he didn't take his anger out on the city, then none of these vigilantes would be around.

Stan's main job was to make a mess, usually cause by repressed and pent-up anger, and have everyone against him clean it up for him. It was a part of his routine now, his favorite part of the day if things didn't go the way he wanted them to.

This case was no exception.

Now, Stan would like to think that he was never really the jealous type. Being in love with his best friend, he knew that he had never really grown attached to anyone like that. But while he'd feel relief in knowing that flirty remarks would go over his head and people asking him out would get rejected, he knew that he would've been given the same treatment if he tried making a move.

Because of it, he felt no need to worry about him dating anyone.

At the time.

So when his best friend finally fell in love or whatever, the symptoms were new, and Stan didn't know why. Everyone in the apartment was usually so groggy in the mornings, but the morning Stan got a bit suspicious was the same morning he saw everyone else acting just a little too... peppy.

Stan walked out of his room, venturing into the kitchen for food, when he noticed the atmosphere had changed. Everyone was awake, happy to be so.

"There he is!" Kenny startled him.

"Could you be any louder?" He asked.

"Probably."

"Stan, you're up early," Kyle muttered.

His sleep schedule was crazy. He had to be awake at night, so he changed his schedule to fit it.

"Don't expect it to last long." He grabbed cereal, "I'm eating and going back to bed."

"Why?"

"Why the fuck do you think?"

Stan easily prepared the bowl of cereal- milk poured first because he was a fucking maniac- and sat down in front of the coffee table once it was good enough to eat.

For a moment, it was quiet. The only noises that could be heard were the shouts coming from the TV and the clanking of a spoon against the bottom of a bowl. Stan only found the energy to start talking again once he swallowed a few bites.

"Why're you both so happy?"

They weren't too close to each other, but they both sat next to each other on the couch with comfortable smiles on their faces. Well- they were. As soon as Stan pointed it out, Kyle scooted away, and both put on neutral expressions.

"How do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean? You're both... happy. Happier than normal."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's almost 9 in the morning, you're both usually a pain in the ass when you're awake this early." He deadpanned.

"Hey."

"In a different way."

Kenny elbowed the redhead, "He's just cranky. It's what happens when you make cereal and decide to pour the milk in first."

"Shut up, Kenny."

"It must be destroying him."

Stan threw the nearest pillow at him. After bouts of laughter coming from the ones that were more awake, it had grown silent.

At the time, despite his small suspicions, he told himself that he had nothing to worry about. He only started to worry nights later, when he saw something that made him sick to his stomach.

_______

That night specifically, he was up at around 12 am. His sleep schedule was fucked beyond repair, so that lead him to wake up when the sky was dark and going back to sleep by the time the sun tried to go back up.

While getting water or some shit, he noticed two figures standing outside on their balcony. One he immediately recognized was Kyle, dressed in a tank top and gray sweats, which did absolutely nothing to protect him from the cold. The other figure he didn't recognize at first, but assumed at the time that it was Kenny, just because they all lived under the same roof.

He grinned once he realized a rare opportunity. Locking the doors as a harmless prank, knowing that he'd just let them back in again only minutes later was something that he hadn't done in a while.

His steps faltered once he realized who the second figure was. His greatest enemy, a spandex-wearing asshole going by the alias Mysterion. The two seemed to just be talking, which would be fine if it were two other people, but these two made Stan extremely nervous. What were they talking about? We're they fighting?

Then another sight made him freeze.

They had kissed.

Kyle was the one who closed the gap, standing on his toes just to reach Mysterion's face. If the vigilante was surprised by it, he certainly didn't show it, leaning down so that the other could wrap his arms around his neck.

Stan wanted to throw up.

__________

"Stan, we need to talk."

He froze for just a second. He recognized that tone of voice, and knew that whatever he was going to say wouldn't be good at all.

"Yeah?"

Kyle sat down across from him. Stan noticed Kenny watching out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to meet his gaze, Kenny's eyes glued back on to the TV in front of him.

"It's... I'm sorry I haven't told you earlier, but, I've been seeing someone."

"Oh." He continued eating, "Who is it?"

He hesitated.

"It's... Kenny. I'm dating Kenny."

Stan had choked on his spoonful.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know- we should've told you before! If it makes you feel any better, it's only been a week or so..."

Stan stared down at his bowl. He had to think for a minute before he would end up responding.

"I uh... wow. That's-" he coughed, "...surprising?"

"Surprising?"

"I'm... surprised."

"So you're not mad?"

"Mad? No. Just surprised."

Stan's expression changed upon realizing the obvious.

Kenny was Mysterion.

It was a theory that he hadn't considered yet. He shot Kenny a glare, though wasn't met with any eye contact, and just stared at him. This guy- if Kyle wasn't kissing other guys while dating him- was a hardcore vigilante that was known for being a complete mystery.

His roommate was his fucking enemy.

He wanted to walk up to him long after Kyle left the table. He wanted to poke his chest, almost shoving him, and remind him that if he hurt his best friend in any way shape or form, that he'd kill him.

But instead, he shrugged it off, and continued eating his cereal.

It was too early for his melodramatic bullshit.

__________

Stan knew that he was being overdramatic. He knew that he wasn't a hormonal teenager anymore, and that this shit shouldn't have gotten to him as much as he let it.

But he couldn't help it.

He decided that a walk would clear his head. Instead of jumping at the opportunity to destroy something out of anger, he thought that he could change things up this time. Walk around, get some fresh air, and clear his head.

Later that night, it would prove to be a huge mistake.

On the walk, he decided to get a soda from a store beside a gas station that was open 24/7. He knew the guy that usually worked the night shift, so seeing a friendly face while getting one of his favorite drinks could calm him down.

The thought left his mind the moment he saw the people surrounding the gas station. At the sight of them, everyone dressed in bright colors and standing around like they were important, Stan knew who they were immediately.

"Hey, kid. You're not allowed to be here."

At his lisp, and lack of anything covering his face, Stan immediately recognized the person blocking his path. A young adult he used to know named Scott Malkinson.

"I don't care."

"You should stand back, you could get seriously hurt."

"You're not my mom."

He left his house to get a soda, and he wasn't about to let some bitch wearing a Halloween costume stop him from doing so. However, when Stan tried to step around him, Scott stepped in front of him. He scowled when the vigilante put his hands up.

"Trust me on this one."

"No."

"It's too dangerous for civilians to be here right now. Come back tomorrow."

"I'm just here to get a soda."

He seemed to consider it.

"Just a soda?"

"Yes. In and out, I doubt it would take longer than 3 minutes."

He looked at the store, then back at Stan before stepping back and allowing him to go anywhere near the gas station.

"Hiya, Stan!"

Stan gave the man behind the counter a small wave, glad to see that he'd come in today.

"Hey, Butters."

The interaction was shorter than three minutes. Stan found his drink, gave it to Butters- Butters scanned it, and he paid for it.

"Hey, you run into the... people out there?"

Butters nodded with a fond smile, "They told me that... that I should leave before things get... dangerous. An- and I told 'em that I wasn't going anywhere until my shift was over."

"And they just..?"

"They left me alone. Such nice people, I'm glad they were worried."

"I don't see what the big deal is."

"They're there 'cause they got a threat or something... I'm not sure."

"Huh."

"Well, goodnight, Stan."

"Yeah, you too."

The moment he left the store, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Still, he walked forward, casually looking around to see what made him so uneasy.

He noticed that the vigilantes once standing around the gas station were all gone.

When the sound of fast footsteps suddenly popped up behind him, obviously getting closer, Stan knew that he'd be in trouble if he didn't act as soon as possible. He turned, ready to punch, but someone grabbed his arm and dragged him off to the side.

"What the fuck-" he managed, grunting when he was shoved into the wall next to the gas station, right next to the bathrooms.

"Shut up."

Upon seeing that the person who pulled him back was a really, really pretty girl, he shut up in an instant.

They were both quiet for what seemed like the longest time. While the stranger looked anywhere but at him, Stan couldn't help but stare at her, almost enchanted. Then they made eye contact. Though her expression softened, her tone was the exact opposite.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Of course, Stan did his best to explain without stammering or mumbling every other word. He had to give a great first impression, show that he could be calm under stressful situations.

"I... I uh, y'know- I went to- go out, and get a soda."

"A soda?"

"Yes'm."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" She scoffed.

"Well, no. But I'm- I actually just wanted a soda."

"It's almost 3 o' clock in the morning."

"I sleep during the day."

Her eyes narrowed, "Where is it, then?"

"I dropped it when you grabbed me."

She huffed.

"Stay here."

She left, Stan watching as she took the drink he dropped not too far away from where he was, and walk back over. Once she was close enough, she shoved it into him.

"Leave." She muttered, "It's not safe here."

She didn't have to tell him twice, nodding as he turned the other way and tried to find a way back home that didn't cut through the gas station. Even as he left the scene, going back into neighborhoods that were deemed safe, he could still feel his heart pounding violently in his chest.

The sensation made him nauseous.

 


	2. (2)

Stan had trouble sleeping the rest of the night. He only got around 5 hours, waking up at 8 and ready to try sleeping again after he got something to eat.

He walked into the kitchen, trying his best to stay casual. Apparently, he wasn't trying hard enough.

"Ooooh," Kyle said the moment he stepped in.

"What?" He snapped.

"Someone's happy this morning."

At first, he grunted, assuming that the observation was sarcastic. He looked at the both of them, before concluding that neither of them seemed to be radiating happiness of any kind. Well, except for Kyle, but that only happened once Stan showed up.

"No, you two seem just fine."

"I'm talking about you, dumbass. You're practically glowing."

"Yeah, could you keep it down?" Kenny grumbled.

Stan leaned over, though made no effort in keeping his voice down, "What's wrong with Mr. Brightside over there?"

"He didn't get any sleep last night." He muttered.

"I'm tired and annoyed."

Stan scowled, "So am I. Suck it up."

"You don't seem like it."

"Just because I'm not acting like an ass doesn't mean I'm not exhausted."

"Go back to bed, dick."

"Take a nap, bitch."

"Puta."

"Pinche puta."

"Besa mi culo, puto-"

"Guys, lighten up." Kyle snapped.

Stan made the usual, pouring milk and then cereal into the bowl. If Kenny were paying any attention to it, he knew that he would've gotten even more upset, complaining because Stan didn't know how to pour his cereal correctly.

"Seriously, what's up?" Kyle asked.

"I'm telling you, it's nothing."

He made himself comfortable next to the coffee table right in front of the couch. As he ate, he used the remote to flip through channels, not caring enough to ask the other two if they were watching what he turned off so quickly. Playing on a channel was a news report of what happened just a few hours earlier. Apparently, a while after he left, some guy with a gun came along with the intent to rob the store, only to get the crap kicked out of him when he got too close. They played footage of the fight. It was in a really bad and grainy quality, but otherwise showed everything that happened.

He recognized one of them. The bright pink costume and the long hair helped in spotting her.

"Huh." Kyle muttered, walking closer, "Wonder who she is."

He remembered that part of the might in great detail, how she yelled at him and assumed that he couldn't take care of himself. The more he stared, the more he was reminded of how he acted around her, until the same nauseous feeling had had hours before came back to him all at once.

He felt sick. Stan pressed his hand against his mouth, passing it off as an itch.

"I'm going back to bed, then." He mumbled into his hand.

"You didn't finish your food."

No response.

"Night, Stan," Kyle called out to him, but he was already too far to hear it.

_______

When his body still refused to sleep, Stan decided to pick up the guitar collecting dust in the corner of his room, and try to play it. He strummed a few notes, getting comfortable with it again pulled off the verse of a song he wrote back in middle school. It wasn't as good as he thought it would be, but he was still glad that he hadn't forgotten how to play.

His music came to an abrupt stop once he noticed the tall blond standing in his room.

"Oh... hi. Kenny. You're in my room."

"Yeah."

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No I just- y'know, I wanted to chat. And hang out."

Stan continued plucking at the strings.

"That's out of character."

"Well, we never really talk to each other. Except when you're eating cereal in the afternoon."

"Yeah, my sleeping schedule's pretty fucked up."

"Why do you sleep during the day, anyway?"

He always had the answer to that question.

"There are fewer people out at 3 am."

"There's heightened criminal activity at night."

"Yeah, but people aren't. If I go outside looking like a mess, I doubt the drug dealers would care."

"Good point."

"Besides, I like the night more than the day."

It was prettier, and you could actually look up at the big shiny thing in the sky without worrying about retinal damage.

"Hm. Just like a vampire."

Despite the poor effort, Stan cracked a grin, "Yeah, don't even joke about that."

"Vampires are fucking lame."

"Tell me about it. The only downside I can think of is accidentally running into them, as well."

Kenny shut his eyes for a moment. Thinking that he was trying to get into the music he was providing, Stan kept it up, strumming out a random tune from a song he forgot the name of. At first, he thought Kenny was planning on taking a nap right then and there, but the moment he knew Stan wasn't on his guard, he struck.

"What're your thoughts on the vigilante problem?"

Stan's hand twitched in surprise, and the song got messed him. He glared at Kenny.

"That was a quick change in subject."

Kenny gritted his teeth, "Thoughts?"

Stan paused. He knew that he needed to say something that would keep him from suspecting anything.

"I don't know, Ken. I think that the town would be better without all of this... drama. On the other hand, though, I wouldn't call having vigilantes around a problem. They're just helping everyone out."

"Hm." He mused.

"How about you? What're your thoughts?"

Stan tried his best to look like he wasn't paying much attention, like he didn't care about his thoughts either way, but he was really trying his best to study him. He already knew that he was Mysterion- but Kenny didn't know that he knew. Would he try to play it safe like he did and bullshit an answer, or give him the truth?

"I'm not sure, either."

"They're probably calling it a problem because of how many people are doing it."

"Hey, they're all trying their best."

"Yeah, and it's all fun and fair until someone gets shot."

"Would you do it?"

"The vigilante thing?" At Kenny's nod, he grimaced, "No, I'm busy."

"If you could? If you had all the free time in the world?"

He paused.

"No."

Why would he sacrifice his life for a town he didn't give two shits about? Why would he protect his punching bag?

"Why not?"

"I'm not athletic in any way shape or form, so already that's off the table. Plus... I've got an injury on my knee. I can't run fast or long distances without it giving out."

"Really?"

"I got it in middle school."

"Okay. Say if you didn't-"

"I still wouldn't do it." He snapped, "It's just too much drama for me to handle. I wouldn't be able to keep up with it."

"Yeah, that's good."

"Would you?"

"Hell no."

"Care to elaborate, amigo?"

Kenny just shrugged.

"Not something I'm into."

His eyes narrowed, "Then why'd you bring it up? Multiple times?"

"Kyle... he's into it. Asked me similar questions."

"Yeah, that's not surprising."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He has a huge boner for that... mystery guy. The one with the underwear on the outside of his pants."

"Mysterion?"

He clicked his tongue, "That's the one."

"You think so?" A grin spread across his face.

Stan stared, dumbfounded, the feeling evident on his face. This was too easy. He was almost mad at himself for not knowing that he was Mysterion earlier on.

"Yeah, just ask him about it. He won't shut up." He snapped.

"Huh."

The silence encouraged Stan to continue playing. Unlike last time, when the only sounds in the room were coming from his guitar, Kenny didn't look like he was on the verge of falling asleep. He seemed... happier. More awake.

"Hey, did you hear about the new vigilante?" He asked.

"Which one?"

"The pink one. I think she goes by Call Girl."

Stan was more than happy to change the subject.


	3. (3)

Stan was skilled when it came to recognizing people out of costume.

Sometimes, he didn't even have to put a voice to a face. He knew that Mysterion was Kenny because they both had the same boyfriend(assuming he wasn't cheating). He knew that the Coon guy was an old friend named Cartman, spotting the terrible Batman impression he used to pull off all the time. He knew that Super Craig and Wonder Tweek were Craig and Tweek for... obvious reasons.

But when it came to recognizing Call Girl's normal identity, he hated how long it took.

He would have to blame it on him being tired.

"Hey, welcome to Tweek Bros. Coffee House, what can I get for you today?"

Stan didn't notice it at first, but her voice was a lot deeper than it was the last time he saw her.

"Do they make you say that, or is it optional?" He muttered.

"Optional. Do you have a problem with it?"

"None. Give me the strongest drink you have."

"Exams keeping you up?" She asked.

"Ha- no. Just my job."

"I have just what you need."

There was a pause.

"Am I allowed to know what it is?"

"Trust me on this one. Can I get your name?"

"Stan."

When Stan got his drink, the waitress shooed him off, promising that it was on the house.

He didn't get why until he read what was written on the cup.

_You're cute_

_Text me later?_

_-Wendy_

(720)-555-3972

Stan was glad that he was just at the door, turning back around to face her again. When she smiled at him, he smiled back at her, giving a thumbs up to let her know that he'd do it as soon as possible.

He didn't know that his new friend was a vigilante when they first started talking to each other.

Kyle and Kenny thought he was going crazy. Here was Stan, someone who used to sleep during the day and only drink tea, now getting up as early as 6am just to get coffee. Of course, they didn't know that it was because of a girl until Kenny finally pulled him aside to ask what the hell he was doing.

He'd go down there to see Wendy. They'd just chat, Stan pulling out random conversation starters when there were no customers, and drinking enough coffee to make him jittery.

Stan didn't know that his friend was a vigilante, even on the first date.

He'd vomited in the trashcans a few times before summoning the courage to ask. He promised it wouldn't be anything fancy if she didn't want to do fancy. He also assured her that, if she was already dating or just not interested, then he'd back off and continue being friends.

They ended up going to the nearest Baskin-Robbins. They both wore casual clothing, Stan's obviously being more comfortable than Wendy's.

When they both sat down, Wendy was the first to speak up.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but before we start officially... dating... I need to ask you a few things."

"Okay?"

"I need you to answer each one as honestly as possible."

He leaned back, "Okay."

"Great." Her kind smile disappeared in an instant, "What are your opinions on feminism?"

"I'm a feminist."

"LGBT rights?"

"I'm... I-"

"You don't think gays should have the same rights as everyone else?" She asked the moment she spotted hesitation.

"No! I mean- yes. My roommates are gay, and I'm... I kinda swing both ways myself, so..."

"Oh." She leaned back in her seat, "Okay, next question- are you racist?"

"No, I hate everyone equally."

"Opinion on abortion?"

"I don't have a vagina, so I don't think I should have an opinion on it."

She pursed her lips.

"Okay, one last question."

He relaxed. "Shoot." He said with a small grin.

"What do you think about our current vigilante problem?"

His eyes narrowed, "What does this have to do with..."

"Answer the question, Stanley."

"I don't- I don't like the drama involving it, but vigilantes and superheros are helping everyone out, so they're cool in my book."

She nodded.

"Nice, you passed. Sorry about that, by the way. You would not believe how many douchey guys have tried to get in my pants."

"Well, you are very pretty."

"Thanks. You're okay, I guess."

Stan put a hand to his chest, "How dare you."

The night was a success.

But he didn't find out that time. They both managed to dance around the problem a few times, avoid talking about it for as much as they possibly could.

On the third date, the date they spent getting more frozen treats and walking around the park, he finally found out.

This was the date where she claimed that she didn't have time to pull her hair up in a bun that time, pulling on a pink hat and letting it go down past her shoulders.  
The date lasted a little while longer than the previous two did, filled in by the surprising sight of Wendy ranting and Stan just... listening. While he wasn't the most talkative person on the planet, he liked doing it, and right now he wasn't able to say much other than agreements.

"Yeah, that sucks."

"I mean- who says that women can't be superheroes?"

At first, he didn't think it wasn't a very serious question. She was just talking about something she was mad about, so Stan brushed it off like he did with previous topics.

"I'm not sure he was saying that they can't. Like- maybe he's just saying that it's mostly men.."

"So you're telling me that he's never seen one before?"

"Wendy, it is just mostly men."

She looked horrified.

"So you're agreeing with him?"

"Maybe not with what you think he's saying. But I agree, there's not as many girls compared to guys."

Pause.

"Have you seen one?" She asked, casually.

"I have."

"In real life, I mean."

He paused as well.

"Well, yeah there was one."

"Yeah?"

"But it was one. Which is disappointing, I guess. She was pretty cool."

That seemed to make her smile.

And in an instant, the world seemed to stop. Though there wasn't really anything that specifically that tipped him off, the realization hit him like a bag of bricks.

Wendy must've noticed the mood change. He didn't do much to hide his shock, which made her expression change into one that was more concerned.

"What?"

Fuck.

_Fuck._

"Fuck! I forgot- I had something I was supposed to do!" He groaned.

"That's... not good."

"I would tell you, but- but It's... personal. Fuck, I have to go."

"Okay."

"I'm so sorry. I swear- I'll text you once it's over-"

"Hey, hey- it's okay."

"I'll make it up to you!"

Then he ran away.

It wasn't his proudest moment. He denied it all the time, but he was really good at running away, and used those skills to get as far away from his girlfriend as possible.

He sprinted through streets. He could've done a better job at avoiding the cars, but he was taking paths where he knew he wouldnt need to stop to continue. He'd stumble and stop a few times thanks to his painful knee injury, but all he had to do was wait a while for his knee to start working again befpre he ran.

The only time he wanted to slow down was when he was finally in his apartment complex, sprinting inside the elevator to reach his final destination. Once the doors closed, he almost collapsed from the sudden stop, catching his breath.

He didn't run the rest of the way. Once he was actually near his apartment, he slowed down to a speedwalk to look more casual.

It didn't work as well as he thought it would.

He threw open the unlocked door, and slammed it behind it. He heard a quiet "Stan?" come from the living room, but he didn't pause to address it.

He sped into his bedroom, locked the door, and curled up in the corner. Finally, right then and there, he was able to freak out as much as he wanted to without anyone else seeing.

Call Girl.

Wendy was fucking _Call Girl._

A vigilante- superhero?- someone he couldn't even be friends with had been dating him for the longest time now.

_She's going to find out soon._

_Or she already does._

_She knows I'm Toolshed._

_She's going to dump me._

_She's going to turn me in._

_I'm going to fucking JAIL._

Stan tried his best to calm himself down. How did he know? She did nothing to hide her voice, didn't do much to hide her face... sometimes, he swore to god she looked just like her.

I've been set up.

She doesn't really like me.

A knock made his head snap back up.

"Stan? Hey- are you okay?"

No.

No no no no _no_.

"Yeah." He said, as loud as possible.

"What happened?"

"I'm... going to bed. Don't worry about it."

"Okay, well, I'm here if you need me, or whatever."

"Kenny."

"Yeah?"

"Is Kyle out there?"

"No, he's not."

"Could you... not tell him about this? Please?"

"All right."

"Thank you."

He just needed time to calm down.

 


End file.
